


Blame the Tequila: Chapter Nine

by gemini_cole



Series: Blame the Tequila [9]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 23:58:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3360104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemini_cole/pseuds/gemini_cole





	Blame the Tequila: Chapter Nine

Blame the Tequila

Chapter Nine

 

 

It was half-past six when Tom rang the doorbell at Frankie’s house.  Nervously he tugged at the collar of his shirt, checking his reflection in the screen door glass. Just as he was wiping away a forgotten bit of toilet paper from a shaving nick on his neck, the door swung open. Frankie stood expectantly on the other side, appraising him.

“I’d have thought Charlie and Mama would have scared you off by now.”

Tom smiled. “No such luck, I’m afraid. May I come in?”

Frankie pushed open the screen door as she stepped aside, motioning him in. As he stepped inside, he caught a hint of vanilla, mixed with something woodsy and floral. It stopped him in his tracks, as he flashed back to the last time he’d smelt it. The memory, fuzzy at best, was of Frankie and the feel of her warm, pliant body arched beneath his. That night back in London. The timing of this memory, the first he had of that night, couldn’t be more inconvenient. Clearing his throat and shaking his head as if to wipe the slate of his memory clean, he thrust his hand out to Frankie, announcing, “Here These are for you.”

She took the armful of pink peonies from him, smiling. “Charlie told you, huh?”

Feigning innocence, Tom replied, “Whatever do you mean? I remembered that you liked peonies. You had them in your apartment back in London.”

Frankie shrugged good-naturedly. “Sure you did. Come on, I need to put these in water. You can come and talk to Charlie while Mama and I finish getting dinner on the table.”

As they walked into the kitchen, Charlie turned and smiled at him. Holding out a beer, he jovially called out, “Hey! There he is, man of the hour. Tom, my boy, you don’t disappoint. I hope you’re ready for this. I talked Miss Viola into making her prize-winning peach cobbler for dessert! Tonight, we feast like kings!”

Viola interrupted as she set a basket of cornbread on the table. “I didn’t make it for him. I made it for my baby. She misses her mama’s cooking when she’s in that god-forsaken country.” At that she shot a glare at Tom, as if he were the whole of England, crown and all.

Frankie followed her, setting another dish on the table as she hissed, “Mama! I said, _behave_!”

Breaking the palpable tension, Charlie clapped his hands, announcing, “Good food, good meat, good God, let’s eat!”

Tom groaned internally as he took his place at the table. Something told him this night was going to drag on interminably.

The foursome quickly settled into a habit of passing serving dishes as Charlie did his best to break the tension by charming and complimenting Viola’s cooking, all the while praising Frankie, this time about all her work in the garden today. It was clear this was a routine the three of them had perfected over many years. As Tom watched silently, even Viola seemed to unbend a little, finally throwing a flirtatious

smile Charlie’s way, and reaching for his hand and squeezing it. At this, Tom noticed Frankie smiling at the two of them, perhaps a touch wistfully. He suddenly found himself aching to know what was going through her head.

It was while dessert was being served that everything came to its inevitable head. While Viola served the peach cobbler, Charlie asked, “So Tom. Thought of any baby names yet?”

Tom paused to swallow the last of his beer, washing down the last of Charlie’s excellent ribs. Finally he replied, “Well, I do like William, if it’s a boy. It’s my middle name, as well as being a family name, it goes well with Hiddleston.”

There was a momentary pause before Frankie cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Hiddleston? Since when would this baby have the last name Hiddleston?”

Tom stared at her briefly, before murmuring, “well, why wouldn’t it?”

Frankie scoffed. “Less than forty eight hours ago you were sure this wasn’t even your baby, now not only is it yours, you want naming rights?”

Charlie interjected, “Now, Frankie, honey-“

“No! No “Frankie honey! This is completely ridiculous!”

At this, Viola interjected, “Vanderveer is a wonderful name with a long and storied history-“

“No! Mama, I appreciate what you are trying to do, but don’t you start either. My point is that everyone seems to have an opinion for this baby, and for this situation, but no one seems to want my opinion! And I am sick and tired of it!”

Viola stood, reaching out to Frankie, “Baby, we just-“

Frankie threw up her hands as if to ward off a blow. “No. I need some air. I’m going for a walk.” She stalked away from the table, the screen door slam echoing behind her.

Viola glared at Charlie. “Well, you really stuck your foot in it this time, Charles.”

Charlie leaned back in his chair, and shrugged unconcernedly. As he reached for another rib, he muttered, “It’s worse than the goddamn Viet Cong, all these landmines around here. Jesus, you women!” Turning to Tom he proclaimed, “If you stand any chance of working things out with her, you best get to running after her, son.”

Tom stood, walking out the front door. Pausing at the end of the driveway, he looked left and right, wondering which way she might have gone. Right was back towards town, left seemed a bit more sedate, with a few houses and patches of trees. He didn’t know Frankie all that well, but thought that if it were him, town would be the last thing he would want. Decision made, he strode quickly down the road, glancing frequently to his left and right. After 10 minutes, he finally spotted her, sitting on a tire swing at a small park. He watched her for a minute as she swayed gently back and forth, her toes kicking up small puffs of dust as they skimmed the ground.

Walking quietly behind her, he gripped the back of the swing, stopping it momentarily before giving it a gentle push. “So is it always going to be like this, Frankie?”

She turned slightly in the swing, looking back at him. “Like what?”

“Fights erupting, one of us runs away. Repeat.”

“I don’t know.”

“Ok. What do you know?”

Frankie sighed. “I know I don’t like the way you just waltz in and act like just because you change your mind, that now everything’s ok. Because it’s not.”

Tom came to stand in front of her, nodding seriously. “Ok. What else?”

“I think the baby’s last name should be Vanderveer.”

Tom frowned. “I disagree. But let’s shelve that conversation for now. We have six and a half more months to come to a agreement on that.”

“Why are you here, Tom?”

“I already told you that.”

“And what if I decide not to come back to London?”

Tom sighed and raked a hand through his hair. This conversation was not going the way he had imagined it would. “Why don’t you want to come back to London, Frankie? Is this some sort of revenge against me?”

Frankie glared as she stood to leave. “You would make this all about you, wouldn’t you?”

Tom grabbed her arm, gently turning her back towards him. “No, Frankie. Stop. Please don’t go. I’m sorry. This is as close as we’ve come to having a conversation about this. Please, tell me what’s going on in your head?”

Frankie sighed again. “I just…I guess I want…family. London is so far. I know that’s what I wanted for me. I guess I just thought that when I started having babies, I would have a family. And in London, I have Tandy. But it’s easy for you; you have your entire family there. I will have no one. And I want my baby to know its grandparents. Yes, I realize Charlie and Viola are a handful. But they’re my handful. And I want Charlie to teach him or her how to bait a hook, and Mama to make chess pie, and for the baby to love it like I do. And yes, if I’m being completely honest, a part of it is that I just don’t want to do this with you. There, I said it.”

Tom paused, trying to ignore the sharp stab of pain that arced through him at her words. He stood, pondering her words as they began walking silently back towards the house.

They paused, as they stood awkwardly in the driveway in the deepening twilight. Through the front window they could see Charlie and Viola dancing in the living room, country music drifting out to them from the open windows. Tom was the first to speak.

“Listen, Frankie. I get it. This isn’t the way either of us wanted this to happen. And I’ve handled it abominably thus far, and I can’t apologize enough for that. I thought this would be a quick trip. I thought we would talk this out, and we’d be back to London. I see now that I was wrong. I want to work this out, but I’m not going to force it. I’m going back to London tomorrow. I’ve purchased you a ticket as well. I hope to meet you at the airport. If not, I’ll call you once I’m back in London. Take the time you need to sort your head and your heart out. I support you and your decision.

With that he climbed into his rental car and drove away. As Frankie watched him go she wondered how in the world he had just managed to make her decision harder, and not easier.


End file.
